


a stupid shelter, like an umbrella against lightning

by tnevmucric



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Dreams vs. Reality, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, quick n a mess bc i needed to get this out of my system, set in p5r bc those translations rly fucked me up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-29 21:51:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20089345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tnevmucric/pseuds/tnevmucric
Summary: "it was hard to notice at first", goro says quietly, "but once you realise it—well, it's jarring, isn't it?"





	a stupid shelter, like an umbrella against lightning

The better part of a month found him stumbling over his own viciously dug roots within Tokyo's concrete roads: future looming with the present beckoning close, and the offbeat progression of his starving brain looking for harvest in the company of too many. Almost peckish, almost hungry... the silence felt depressing.

"Your number? I already have it."

"It's a new one." Goro shrugs with an easy smile, leaving but still leaning against the stair railing as if he were about to change his mind. "In case you need to contact me." A bag swings at his side.

"Thank you", Akira replies but Goro's smile is vague, unchanging when he leans into Akira's space, hips jutted forward like an offering and shoulders hunched, as if he were about to whisper something conspiratorial. Later, Akira would pretend this was the first time he realised what creature he was witnessing the birth of. Even later, he'd resign it to the first handshake.

"Always, Akira", he says and it feels like the first time Goro has ever said his name, let alone say it like that. _Akira_—like he's something bubbling, something brewing and blooming and to be in awe of.

Akira nods, a heavy flush rising his neck and feet itching to step back, end the interaction where his fingers clenched so tightly to continue. _Morgana's spending time with the others_, he'd mentioned at the detective's observations. _He's coming back tomorrow afternoon._

"Okay. Okay."

He's not sure which mask to don in the presence of Goro Akechi, unsure of why his own submission comes as easily as breathing but tastes of bitter myrtle on his tongue—and perhaps that's the point. To feel less empty, to feel less like he's full of holes, this could be the price to pay, maybe

"Akira", Goro says again, tilting his head. _Ask me._

There's something hazy and lax about the quick roughness of it all—Goro moves like a pallid wave and Akira is a horrible swimmer. He pants, hyperventilates, forgets motor functions and lets the water expertly slip through his winter shirt, soaking him wet.  


And then it's over, and then the world floods in. He never realised how squeaky his bed was, never realised the water damage on the ceiling right above his pillow—he pants, forgets to breathe, and Goro's hand is firm on his hip as he leans up to take his call.

"Akechi. Yes, sir. Yes, I'm just about to leave-", there's a shout on the other end of the line and Akira jumps. It's a thrill and skidding feeling to watch Goro's lips adapt the casual confidence of a detective, charming and precise while his face remains the passive cold of ice. _"Right, I'm on my way"_, is said firmly but his eyes (_red, red, red_) gloss over, like he's detached himself from his own body and become utterly focused on the persona he's playing.

Goro runs his tongue over his teeth, pausing briefly to assess the state before him. He sits up, not avoidant but not inviting, and trails toward the mirror in the corner: cleaning himself up, swiping his thumb against his own lip.  


"How do you do it?"

Akira has never felt smaller while asking a question.

Goro stares at him, splayed out on the bed in stand-by mode: cradle-robbed, maybe. Whatever he wants him to be, surely. His smile hikes up one side at a time, slow and tumultuous, like the coil of wire between two power lines.

"You should keep your phone on you", he advises.

Akira knows how to take a hint.

* * *

He's wandering the underground walkway on a free day when he spots him by one of the platforms—_decidedly lost for the day_, he tells Akira with a weary glance. They haven't spoken or seen each other since what happened, but it feels strangely like layover, or overlap. Akira doesn't want to call it déjà vu , because its nothing close, but it's as if they've picked up where they've left off, somewhere at sometime, and something distinctly begins to sour.

"No trains have been through here in a long time", Goro comments, gaze lost over the train lines. Sounds of cars and birds and the dense fog low to the ground heighten the eerie weather, and Akira holds his arms around himself as the chill sets in; the station is claustrophobic.

"There's a train every fifteen minutes", he points out.

"Necessary stops", Goro agrees. "Planned ones, but nobody gets on or off here anymore, not since you. Haven't you noticed that nobody's here?."

Akira looks over Goro's shoulder, doubtful—he'd seen people all around the city today as per norm: all bustling, all busy... he double takes. The air feels icier and Goro steadies him with a gloved hand, grabbing his attention away from the desolate station.

"It was hard to notice at first", Goro says quietly, "but once you realise it—well, it's jarring, isn't it?"

"What's happening?"

Goro's hand goes back to his pocket and he leans his weight to one side. He looks softer in earthier colours, Akira notes, but his shoulders seem to retain the metal pressure of his usual suit.

"Speculation suggests we are in someone's cognition, or rather, everyone's at once. I passed Sae-san and Niijima earlier in the day-"

"Makoto passed her entrance exams."

Goro smiles sympathetically, or as close to it he could come. "And Sae-san was proud of her. Excited, even... it's sad, how something so simple and obtainable has become a far off dream in her eyes. We're all distorted." Unease settles in Akira's stomach, oddly and unnaturally.

"I saw Futaba's mother. I spoke to her. How—how could I forget-?"

Silence and and space bend between them, sending the sting of a sharp knife or gun wound right into his mouth, through his cheek and sinus and the pocket of air around his connecting jaw, his tongue. Goro continues seamlessly, the cold pursed between his lips. "The people around here, we've all gotten off that train one way or the other. We're thrown away, doomed to become, and remain the worst versions of ourselves. Now, stuck in this dream. You feel it, I know you do. It's not right for us to stay here. This isn't living."

"Maybe it's for the best." 

Goro's smile is flat and cruel. _Is that disgust?_

"Aren't you sweet? If you'd rather choose to live together happily with your friends in this reality, then, that would be another story. Your resolve is disappointing, _hero_. Was your dream that satisfying?"

The foundation of the sky crumbles, then collapses over and down Akira's back; he stumbles, only to be caught again by Goro, and clings tightly to his brown coat. _Oh_, he breathes. _Oh_, it sets in.

"It wasn't real." His voice doesn't sound right to him, sounds like someone's taken his voice box and crushed it under their toes. He sounds like a child, nauseous and stuck in delay after delay and waiting for his brain to catch up.

"Look at me." Goro's hands are tight against either side of his face. He looks different than the dream or whatever reality he tries to remember. He feels broader under Akira's hands, seems more composed—healthy, Akira stutters to realise. He looks like life has been breathed into him. "You need to calm down before someone notices."

"Someone-?"

Suddenly, the noise hits him. Passerby rush by them in normal station fashion, on their phones and with their briefcases and the occasional open umbrella despite it having been a_ zero-percent-chance_ day.

And then it starts to rain outside.

"We're attempting to be distracted", Goro pulls away and glances around. "Come on, I know where we can go."

Goro's apartment is far into the city and filled with warmth, the smell of cardamom and jasmine, and the distinct sound of the shower running.  


"Who's here?", he questions softly as Goro shrugs off his jacket and loosens his tie, closing the door behind him.

"Don't worry."

Akira glances down the hallway, a soft humming following a mindless tune.

"Your mother?", he presses. Goro turns to the kitchen, response dragging behind him.

"Jarring, needless to say", he pulls out a bowl and cutlery, moving comfortably around the kitchen and lifting the lid on a pot that looked like it had boiled earlier that day. "When was the last time you ate?"

"I don't think I can keep anything down."

"Something light", Goro compromises, setting a warm plate of food in front of him anyway.  


Akira eats at the breakfast bar in silence for a while, mindlessly chewing while Goro watches—sleeves rolled, gloves and sweater still on. He seems older, too. The humming from the bathroom doesn't seem to bother him.

"How old are you?", Akira decides to ask first. Goro blinks.

"Twenty-four, if I had to estimate. It was perhaps the first clue to me that I was not... home. What do you last remember?"

Akira shakes his head, setting down his spoon and leaning his chin in his palm. "I'm not sure. It's hard to think about. Have you tried speaking to any of the others?"

"They're unaware of my existence in this world. Niijima barely recognised me as her sisters coworker."

"Your dream alienates your friends from you?"

"They were never my friends, they were yours."

It's a sharp reminder and startles him, his body attempting to realign itself, slip into the right skin—but he's cornered. His feet shuffle awkwardly under the breakfast bar and his hands move to his lap. Cornered in no corner, Goro fills the space around him. _Ambush._

"Are we friends?"

Goro actually seems surprised, a little disgruntled, and mostly Akira just wants the dream back: impulsivity and the empty recklessness that leads no where good but leaves him feeling whole. The silence is too much, unobsessive and ignoring of his needs, and Goro narrows his eyes, standing a little straighter

"Were we?", he echoes, and Akira decides he doesn't like having his mask ripped off and thrown in his own face. He doesn't like it one bit.

"You've seen my dream", Goro continues. "What's yours?" It's very suddenly embarrassing.

"Feeling needed", is all he can get out. Goro's eyes narrow. "I know how it sounds, trust me."

"Was leading a vigilante group not enough of an ego boost?"

"They didn't need me, not really."

"Then who?"

"You'll hate me if I say."

"Maybe", Goro pauses. "Say it anyway."  


"You, then", Akira confesses simply. "I'm selfish, I thought you needed me and that we were the same, that we needed each other to feel less-"

"Empty."

"Yeah."

"I thought the same."

Akira raises an eyebrow, but Goro glances away.

"What do you plan to do?", he asks. "Stay?" Akira shakes his head.

"Will we remember this if we go back? How do we even go back?"

"The app, maybe. It's our best shot." Goro's folded arms fidget around each other. "What is it that you want to remember from this place? All it will bring is pain and the reminder that you can't have what you crave. Do you really want that?"

"You keep asking me what I want, but you were right. It's not about what we want, that's not right. It's just about what's best for everyone: we can't be selfish."

"Is it not selfish to take away simple joy?", Goro then questions and Akira pauses. Why were they going in circles? He wets his mouth before speaking.

"You're going back on what you said?"

"No", Goro is quick to clarify, "but the fact that you're agreeing with me makes me believe you might not be him. I was expecting... well, I'm not sure I even knew what to expect. I've already seen numerous versions of my father grovel at my feet and beg for forgiveness—perhaps you're one of many perceptions of Akira Kurusu and there is no way back to the real one."

"Have you seen more than one of me?"

Goro doesn't reply. 

"It's me", Akira tries and Goro scoffs shaking his head and turning away to the sink.

"I know. Though, I need time to sort something out. Let's meet up again at the station next week."

"Goro-"

"Please, a week."

From behind, Goro's shoulders are taut and stressed. Akira spots the coffee siphon on the counter, the black jacket thrown haphazardly over one of the dining chairs, he can even taste Leblanc's curry still warm on his palate. "Keep your phone on you."

That night, Akira dreams of navy cloth over his eyes, music melting his brain, and a voice counting roughly in his ear with each thrust against his backside.

He wakes up late, in a world that isn't theirs, and feels a little closer to Goro Akechi.


End file.
